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Showing posts from January, 2007

We now interrupt your normal lives with this absolutely worthless and random rant: "Asan na si Jennifer?"

I am such a Philistine. I only just learned that Jesse Spencer and Jennifer Morrison are engaged in real life!
Damn. Damn! Such is life, that I once again have to pick up the pieces of my broken dreams.

Ever since high school, one of my most fervent dreams - besides owning a Lamborgini, winning a big literary award, and seeing the cherry blossoms in Japan - was to be the proud owner of a respectable stubble of beard on my chin. I'm almost 24, and the best I can manage is a very, very pathetic version of the beard Gordon Liu strokes in Kill Bill vol. 2.

My brother has fared off much better than myself in this respect, his growth making him look older despite being born 4 years later than me. It helps that he also sports a pair of black rimmed eyeglasses, thereby completing his angas-slash-rocker-type-slash-intellectual look.



You might think - if there are in fact, any people out there who read my crap - that I write this out of the sheer boredom of my office existence, but on the contrary, this is just something I need to put out lest I'm driven insane by all the TAGALOG pages I have to go through today.

See? Argh.

Butts and Golden Globes

At last, Hugh Laurie wins something. For his performance of the doctor we all love to hate, Hugh Laurie received the Best Actor Award for Drama in Television for House: MD. W00t!


In related news, Sacha Baron Cohen won Best Actor for a Musical or Comedy in a Motion Picture for Borat: Cultural Learnings of America. His quote of the night:

"This movie was a life-changing experience. I saw some amazing, beautiful, invigorating parts of America but I saw some dark parts of America, an ugly side of America, a side of America that rarely sees the light of day. "I refer of course to the anus and testicles of my co-star Ken Davitian. 'Ken, when I was in that scene and I stared down and saw your two wrinkled golden globes on my chin, I thought to myself, `I'd better win a bloody award for this.' And then, when my 300 pound co-star decided to sit on my face and squeeze the oxygen from my lungs, I was faced with a choice death or to breathe in the air tha…

You rest when you're dead

My boss had fit just now, cruelly berating - in front of everybody - some guy from utility over some trivial thing. I've never seen her like that; I guess it has something to do with the guy being from utility.

It really doesn't seem to matter that the stone age-slash-hunting gathering days are millions of years past; it all still boils down to who has the most power. It may have taken different shapes and forms throughout the years, but its essence remains the same; from "Give me your woman and your potato because I have bigger stick" to "If you don't have as much moolah (or connections) as I do, f*ck off."

As time passes and years find you, you'll also find many a man (or woman) who fancies you to be beneath him or her, and you shall always be dealt with according to your perceived station. Right and wrong or reason won't matter one whit; only power.
It seems that the conjured-up images of megalomaniacs who laugh diabolically and think themselve…

Where's my head?

Its crunch time again - the first of many more to come this year - and I once again find myself crouched in front of my computer, updating progress and files and proofing pages.

Naturally all the normal people have gone home and eaten their dinners and gone to bed; I envy them.


Gentleman Alone
by Pablo Neruda (Translated by Mike Topp)

The young maricones and the horny muchachas,
The big fat widows delirious from insomnia,
The young wives thirty hours' pregnant,
And the hoarse tomcats that cross my garden at night,
Like a collar of palpitating sexual oysters
Surround my solitary home,
Enemies of my soul,
Conspirators in pajamas
Who exchange deep kisses for passwords.
Radiant summer brings out the lovers
In melancholy regiments,
Fat and thin and happy and sad couples;
Under the elegant coconut palms, near the ocean and moon,
There is a continual life of pants and panties,
A hum from the fondling of silk stockings,
And women's breasts that glisten like eyes.
The salary man, a…

Back to normal

And just like that, it all ends.

The holidays draw to a close - too bad the crime rate that goes with it won't - and everything's back to normal. I once again have to force myself out of bed every morning to get to work on time, then trudge through morning and evening rush hour every day from Mondays to Fridays, and then I can't look forward to any more additional moolah in my payslip.

At least there won't be any more annoying Christmas songs (especially the ones from Wille Revillame) and no more annoying firecrackers.


I have never been one for New Year's resolutions; I believe that if you want to change something, it's kinda lame to wait for the changing of a year to resolve to do it. I do hope for more good things though.


Okay, back to work.